A Study in Hannah
by Bentin Freebatch
Summary: Sherlock and John are investigating a case, when they find a girl named Hannah in one of Jim Moriarty's old bases. She is rather aggressive, but more importantly, she does not speak properly. At the same time, this girl could be able to reveal many of Jim Moriarty's secrets. Can Sherlock and John befriend this mysterious girl and learn to communicate with her?
1. Chapter 1 – The Base

Chapter 1 – The Base

Sherlock and John met Lestrade in front of an old, and now empty, warehouse far outside the outer ring of London. The detective inspector filled the two men in on the situation, explaining that this was one of Jim Moriarty's former bases, a place where he recruited men and had kept his weapons. Even though they had been too late to stop Moriarty from emptying the base and move its content to a new one, it was still worth a lot to look around.

"Perhaps you can deduce his new location, Sherlock," Greg concluded and started to walk the two men into the building. "As you can see, the move was quite organised. Not one spot seems to reveal the warehouse's last use."

Sherlock nodded and looked around as well. Unfortunately, Lestrade seemed to be right. There wasn't a scratch on the walls or floor, and nothing was left behind. After a ten minute walk through the entire building, he met Lestrade back outside.

"Nothing to be found, except for one thing," Sherlock said. John frowned and looked at his flatmate.

"One thing? We just went through the entire building and all you did, was saying 'no, no, no' over and over again. What one thing did I miss then?"

Sherlock grinned and looked at his shorter friend.

"You miss a lot more than you think, John. You see, but you do not observe."

"Well, I can observe right now that you are an arrog–"

"Guys, please. Can we get to the point? What did we miss, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sighed. He was just started to get on fire with this game of 'minor' insults. He looked up at Lestrade again.

"Well, we've been downstairs twice now and only one time upstairs. I can guarantee you that the upstairs area is empty and completely useless to this investigation. Downstairs, however, the police – and John – has missed something that can possibly make the entire investigation as simple as –"

"And what did we miss?" asked Lestrade again, rather impatient and not in the mood for Sherlock to take his time to try to show off his great intellectual skills.

"A door," Sherlock stated and then put on a smug grin.

"A door?" asked Lestrade, to which Sherlock nodded in confirmation.

"A door? Sherlock, the building is made of thick concrete and inside there are no more doors. You and I both saw that," said John.

"No, John," Sherlock responded, "_you saw_ that, but _I observed _something completely different. Well, not completely, as there is only one door, but I did observe something different from what you saw. You missed the clue by looking."

"Fine, fine. I got it," said John, slightly annoyed.

"Good, now that that's settled, show us the door, Sherlock," said Greg, after he had gathered ten men with guns. Sherlock walked them to the 'door', but none of the men actually saw it. They stared at the concrete wall, and for a moment, Lestrade thought that Sherlock had lost his magic touch.

"A rock," said Sherlock.

"A what?" mumbled John.

"A rock. I need a rock. Bring me one."

John looked at the police officers, but none of them attempted to move, and so he sighed and fetched Sherlock a rock from outside himself.

"Is this one okay?"

"Perfect, thank you," Sherlock said and walked to the wall. "Gentlemen, I can observe that you all are looking at this wall. However, looking will bring you nowhere. You must observe, meaning you must both watch, listen, connect, dissect, process, and whatsoever, every moment and all at the same time. I can understand that just by looking, none of you know what I know." He walked a few times past the wall, emphasising the pressure on his heels so that the sound of it echoed through the room. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and listen to the sound of my shoes. When you hear a change in sound, click with your tongue. Ready? Good." The men hesitated for a moment, but Greg told them to do what Sherlock asked from them, and so they did. Sherlock walked past the wall, and when most men clicked their tongues, he stopped. "Open your eyes," Sherlock said. "This is where the sound changed. Now listen to this." Sherlock tapped the rock loudly against the wall and went back the way he walked. The sound of the rock hitting the wall also changed. He turned to Lestrade. "The area behind this wall is a hollow one. This wall is thinner than the other, outer wall."

Lestrade came forward and touched the wall.

"Alright, but how could we miss another room? We should have been able to notice it from the outside."

Sherlock shook his head.

"The room is under the hill that meets the wall outside. But that would mean that the room is small, way too small for a human to walk in. Therefore, this room goes deeper into the ground. That is all I can tell you. Considering the side of the hill, the room might be rather small. Then again, it might become bigger when it gets further underground."

"Good work, Sherlock, I must give you that," Lestrade said. "But where is the door?"

"Hm? Ah, do you have a pen and a ruler?"

Greg shook his head.

"I've got a… roll of police tape and a marker."

"That'll do fine."

Two police officers brought the two items, and held a piece of the police tape tightly against the wall. Sherlock took the marker and drew a straight line along it. Then the police tape was removed, and Greg managed to point out where the door was, by looking at the line from a few metres away, and seeing the slight inconsistency in the straightness.

"There. That's the door. But how…"

Sherlock started to hit the rock in several places. First along the edges of the door, easily chopping away the newest layer of concrete, as it was placed in a rush and thus had much air in it, and then where he thought the handle would be. He found it after several minutes of chopping away.

"Now," he said, dropping the rock and patting the dust off his jacket. "All we need is some manpower to open it."

John stepped forward.

"I'll do it," he said, grabbing the handle and holding his gun in his other hand. The police automatically got into position, and Sherlock and Greg took a few steps back. After a few times of pushing and pulling, the thick concrete door opened slowly. There was a rather dark room ahead, but John could see a faint green light, and stairs that went down among two edges of the square room. It was a deep area, and at the ceiling it was small, but downstairs it was quite large. John held his gun tight as he set foot on the stairs, made of iron. Just as he thought the room was empty, he saw a person among the many machines and laboratory tables. It was only a girl, or a young woman. His footstep on the iron had echoed through the room and she was now looking at him. John instantly stepped back, and tripped, and then…

_Bang!_

A gunshot.


	2. Chapter 2 – The Gunmaker

Chapter 2 – The Gunmaker

_Bang!_

A second shot. Sherlock ran to his friend and pulled him away from the door opening. John crawled back up and stepped back, pushing Sherlock with him.

"John? John? Are you alright?" asked Sherlock, and his friend was indeed alright.

"Yeah. I'm not hit. Watch out, Sherlock." John pointed his gun at the door, hearing the echo of the metal staircase. The girl was walking up. She, too, had the gun with her. The policemen put up their guns, and as the girl appeared at the opening, Lestrade stepped up.

"Drop your weapon! Police!" he yelled.

The girl instantly looked at him, her eyes showing her anger, but she didn't comply with Greg's demand. The room fell silent, and after a few seconds, the girl pointed her gun at John.

"Drop your gun, or we'll shoot!" Lestrade warned her, but she only gave him a short look. She then looked straight at John, the man who had disturbed her peace. "Shoot in her arm, guys."

"No!" said Sherlock, making the girl jump and point her gun at him. "Lestrade, send your men away, please. They are making the situation worse."

"Sherlock? The girl has a gun and she's not responding to my warnings."

"Because she doesn't understand!"

"Underst-?"

"Just send them away, now." Sherlock waved at the men to leave quickly, and Lestrade finally sent them away. Now it was only the three of them, and the girl. The girl had been watching them leave, and she defensively had taken a step back, closer to the door. Sherlock looked her over, but he was surprised to learn that he couldn't deduce her. It was Irene all over again, except that the girl wasn't naked like Irene had been.

"Sherlock, what do we do now?" John asked in a whisper.

"No need to whisper, John," Sherlock said. "She doesn't understand it anyways."

"Explain," John said, still pointing his gun at her, his eyes not leaving her direction, and watching her every move.

"I believe she does not understand English."

"Right, okay. So, how exactly do we communicate with her then?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, making the girl point her gun towards him again. He pointed his finger at himself.

"I am Sherlock," he said slowly, and then pointed at John. "John. Lestrade." Sherlock said as he moved to point at Greg. He then pointed at the girl, which spooked the girl slightly, and she released a shot.

_Bang!_

The other three jumped, but John didn't shoot back. The girl had only shot at the concrete floor. Sherlock moved his hands up, trying to show her that he meant no harm.

"John, lower your gun," he ordered, and with a little hesitance, the man did, trusting Sherlock. He then slowly pointed at the girl again. The girl didn't understand, so he repeated the round of names. "Sherlock. John. Lestrade…" His finger pointed at her again, and Sherlock could see in her eyes that she understood. Slightly nervous, she swallowed and then opened her mouth.

"Hannah," she said, to which Sherlock smiled a little.

"Hello, Hannah," he replied. She didn't respond again, and he hummed. "I see."

John frowned and he finally changed his gaze from Hannah to Sherlock.

"See what, Sherlock?"

"She doesn't speak at all. She never learned to speak. Nor read or write, I assume." Greg gasped.

"Not at all? How is that possible?!" he asked, stunned.

"Children learn to speak through their parents. They first mimic their parents, like parrots do, and then they learn the connotations. It's a slow process, it takes us years and years, but it's also a rather easy and natural process. However, our friend here hasn't been spoken to."

"Why would that happen?" John asked.

"Well… I think she was an important part of Jim's organisation. They taught her how to be of use to him, but not how to speak. That way she can't betray him."

"Okay," said John, nodding, "but then how do we communicate with her?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Body language?" he suggested and looked at Hannah again. "Put your gun away, John. Down, if you must, but not in your hand."

And so John did. He put the gun back in its holder, and he put his hands up to show Hannah that he wasn't holding the weapon anymore.

"Hannah," Sherlock said, and his voice echoed a little. "Please, we mean no harm. Put the gun down."

He knew that she wouldn't understand, but talking to her, mentioning her name, the only word to which she responded to up to now, should help forming a bond.

Hannah didn't put it down. Her eyes were never settling on one of them for long. They were going up and down the row of the three men.

"Lestrade, leave." Greg looked at Sherlock as he said this so coldly. "She probably feels outnumbered. John and I will take care of this."

Greg nodded understandingly.

"Do you need anything? Back-up at the door, a code word, handcuffs?" Sherlock shook his head. "Be careful, you two," Greg said, and then he left.

Hannah's shoulders showed signs of relaxation, or at least somewhat.

"Hannah." This time it was John who spoke. She looked at him. "Please?" He nodded at the gun. She then looked at Sherlock, who also nodded. She lowered her gun, but still held it in her hands. Sherlock set a small step forwards, and she stepped back. Her gun went back up a little and Sherlock shushed her. The gun went down again, and he took another step, and another, and another…

"Please, put the gun down," Sherlock repeated. He kneeled and tapped on the floor.

Hannah looked at John and nodded, motioning him to get rid of his gun first. Sherlock gave him permission, and John laid his gun on the floor, and he kicked it far to the side. Gently but nervously, Hannah bent over and put her gun on the floor, after having given it a kiss. It was obviously important to her. She then gave it a careful but firm push with her foot, in the other direction of where John had kicked his gun to.

"Thank you," said Sherlock, and he slowly rose again. Of course, he knew that Hannah wouldn't understand him. He clicked with his tongue. Hannah looked up, confused but interested, and Sherlock smiled. He then motioned to the room behind her, and with a slight nod, she walked back in. The three made their way down. Hannah made her way down backwards, so that she could keep an eye on them. Once they had gotten down, Sherlock started to analyse the room.

"Remarkable…" Sherlock whispered. John, too, looked around in awe. There were many guns hung on the walls, and displayed or stored in glass or plastic boxes. There were also many machines, and instructions explained in pictures.

"That's her job then," John established. Sherlock looked at him and then at Hannah.

"Making guns…"


	3. Chapter 3 – The Capture

Chapter 3 – The Capture

Hannah let the men walk around, but she followed them everywhere, and it soon became clear to Sherlock and John that they weren't allowed to touch anything. John stopped where he had noticed the girl for the first time.

"Look at this, Sherlock," he said softly. Sherlock turned around and frowned. "She was just busy working on another gun. Isn't that strange? Jim's already left and she's still acting like she works for him."

Sherlock stepped closer to the new gun, and Hannah instantly did the same, pushing him away without hesitance.

"Shhh," Sherlock tried to soothe her upcoming anger, stepping back again. She looked at the two men, and after a moment of silence, she sat down. She was finishing up the gun, and it alarmed John.

"Sherlock, should we let her do this? I don't have my own gun with me anymore, remember?"

Sherlock nodded, understanding John's fear.

"You may be right, but I don't think she'll use it against us. She's just finishing her… job…" Sherlock's eyes grew wide. "That's it, John! I don't think that she _acts_ like she still works for Jim, I think that she _still_ works for Jim."

By then, Hannah was spinning the cylinder, the distinct sound of a game of Russian Roulette. It was a copy of an old revolver, and a good one. She loaded it and pointed it up.

_Bang!_

Sherlock and John jumped and gave her a suspicious look, but she didn't look at them at all. Her eyes were fixed on the weapon as she caressed its barrel.

"She doesn't know, does she?" asked John.

"Hm?" Sherlock was trying to deduce Hannah again, but he had heard John's question.

"She doesn't really know what Jim does with the weapons. She probably doesn't even know that he and his men are gone and that they had left her here."

"I don't think she has a clue of anything, John. But I'm sure that Jim is coming back for her. We must take her and all the machinery."

John agreed and he started to make his way to the stairs, but a bullet hit the metal right in front of him. He gasped and looked at Hannah. The girl was slowly shaking her head. He stopped moving and looked at Sherlock.

"Sh-Sherlock?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. They needed to hurry, and Hannah was making it hard for them. He quickly pressed two fingers against a spot on her neck. Before she could counteract, the revolver slipped from her hand and her body went limp. Sherlock supported her and lifted her up.

"We need to be quick. Hannah can come with us to Baker Street," he said as he joined his friend up the stairs.

"We can't take her with us! She's bloody dangerous."

"And interesting! What are the odds of me finding a case like this again?" Sherlock looked at Hannah's face, which now seemed at peace.

"I don't care. She's mad, like her employer is," John protested, running to his gun and putting it back where it belonged.

"I will change her," Sherlock said as they walked outside. Lestrade came running to them.

"Sherlock? What the hell has happened?"

"We don't have much time. I'm going to need some special police items, and you need to make sure that the last room is completely empty. Be careful, there are a lot of weapons. It's a sort of gun factory."

"Good, okay. What do we do with the girl?" Lestrade asked after having sent out a few text messages.

"We're taking her."

Sherlock had received what he needed and cuffed the unconscious girl's hands in front of her body, and then attached the link of the cuffs to a special belt which he had tied around her waist.

"I'm sorry, who gave you permission for that?"

Sherlock lifted the girl in Lestrade's police car, put a seatbelt around her, and closed the door.

"You did," he responded and turned to Greg.

Greg sighed.

"Fine, I get it," he gave in and got in behind the wheel. Sherlock sat in the back next to Hannah, and John took the passenger's seat.

They drove as fast as they could, and when Greg parked the car in front of 221B, Hannah groaned weakly.

"Just in time," Sherlock whispered and got out to pick her up at the other side. John opened the door for him and Sherlock carried her upstairs. He laid her down on the couch, and the three men finally took a moment to catch their breath and lower their heartbeat.

"And now what?" Greg asked.

"_Sherlock_ _here_ wants to take her on as a case," John said. He still wasn't pleased about the fact that they had taken home the girl who had shot at him twice. Greg looked at Sherlock for confirmation. Sherlock nodded.

"Look, first of all, there aren't many known cases of this type of neglect. It's very, very interesting. Second of all, she holds the key to Moriarty's secrets. If I can teach her how to talk, she can be of great help."

Greg sighed. It was probably up to him to convince his superior to allow Sherlock to keep the girl, even if it was against her will.

"I will try my best, but only because you might be right about that."

The three looked at Hannah as she was slowly opening her eyes.

"Lestrade, you must leave now. It's better that she doesn't see you here."

Greg agreed to Sherlock's request, and he left. Sherlock took a seat in his own chair, purposely ignoring Hannah so that she could privately wake up. John felt extremely confused and uncomfortable, but instead of just sitting in his armchair, he decided to make tea in the kitchen, for the sake of doing something and not being too close to Hannah.

Hannah had woken up, and she allowed herself not a minute to adapt. She jumped up to lash out at the taller man, but she had gotten up too soon. Her dizziness forced her on her knees and she looked down, noticing the chains. She pulled them and tried to undo them, but it was impossible. With each pull of her hands, the belt forced her body forwards. There was no chance in strangling either of the men. She looked up. The tall man ignored her, and she hissed. She finally recognised him from the pictures… _Kill_.


End file.
